


anything but fair

by cupsofteaandcoffeespoons



Category: Flashpoint (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupsofteaandcoffeespoons/pseuds/cupsofteaandcoffeespoons
Summary: Sam Braddock dies on a sunny June day, two weeks after joining the SRU.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	anything but fair

**Author's Note:**

> *cross-posted under the same name to fanfiction.net*

It had started out as a normal Hot Call. A man was standing on the roof of his apartment complex, threatening to jump. When word of this reached Commander Holleran, he sounded the alarm, and Team One immediately ceased their pre-shift workout, running into the locker rooms and gearing up.

When they reconvened in the lobby, Sarge rattled off riding assignments.

“Jules, you’re with me. Spike and Lou, ride with Ed. Braddock with Wordy.”

The team ran to the garage, hopped into the SUVs, and took off. Sarge and Jules began discussing the case. Spike, Lou, and Ed were talking about the upcoming Summer Olympics. Wordy was listening to Sarge’s conversation with Jules, occasionally offering input.

Sam Braddock was silent.

It wasn’t that Sam didn’t want to participate in the discussions, or that he couldn’t. In fact, it was quite the opposite; he had several tactical ideas that he would have been more than willing to share, and he was as excited for the Olympics as the men in the second car. But he’d only been with Team One for two weeks, and he was still treated as frostily as he had been on the very first day he’d met the rest of the team.

Part of it, he knew, was his fault. He was seemingly cocky and arrogant, a playboy with no real regard for empathy, or any apparent emotions at all, for that matter. He wore that mask (he had for a very long time), and he wore it well. Besides his façade, there was the small matter of him insinuating that he was going to pull a gun on them at that very first Hot Call. Yeah, Sam was a pretty smart guy, and pulling a stunt like that? Basically suicide.

(Maybe that’s what he’d been going for. He really didn’t know anymore.)

Reflecting on his past actions with the SRU, Sam fell into such deep thought that he didn’t notice Wordy turn off his mic and call his name.

“… you with me?”

Sam turned his mic off. “Huh? Yeah, man, I’m here."

Wordy frowned before continuing. “You were pretty quiet during the tac talk. What do you think?”

Sam replied, “I mean, this situation never really came up in Afghanistan. I’m a little out of my element here… I think I’ll let you and Ed come up with the plan.”

This was a lie, of course. He had seen this before, although not in Kandahar. But that was private, and the team didn’t need to know about that.

Wordy frowned. As time had passed, Sam had become more and more withdrawn, never speaking up or talking back. He never came up with tactical suggestions, instead going wherever Ed told him to. Wordy knew the team had been extremely harsh with Sam (especially Jules and Ed), but Wordy also knew that Sam had a lot more tactical experience than anyone else on the team.

“Look at it like a learning opportunity,” Wordy said, trying to tread lightly, “just give it a shot and talk me through it. You’ve got good instincts… use them.”

Sam looked surprised at Wordy’s words but started talking. “Well, what do we have on background info for the subject?”

“His name’s Larry Nelson. He’s 37 years old, with a wife and one daughter. He lost his job as a bartender about three months ago after he got into a fistfight with a customer, and he hasn’t found work yet. His wife’s an ER nurse, so money’s pretty tight.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. A few minutes ago, Spike figured out that the subject had a doctor’s appointment yesterday, where he found out that he has a very aggressive brain tumor. It’s been causing mood swings and reckless behavior. It’s terminal, and within the next six months he’s going to deteriorate rapidly and painfully.”

“Well, I would assume that’s the reason for the suicide attempt.”

Wordy murmured, “Yeah, that sounds like a safe bet.”

Sam rubbed an old scar along his left wrist absentmindedly as he thought. After a minute, he said, “So he feels like there’s no reason for him to stay alive. It’s going to be painful for both himself and his family, and he most likely doesn’t want to burden them. Add that to the fact he probably feels guilty about losing his job in the first place… damn man, I don’t know. This is a tough one.”

“Yeah, it is,” Wordy said, “so how would you handle it?”

“Well, we’d have to give him something to live for. He doesn’t want to spend a year suffering only to die anyways, so we need to give him something to look forward to, a reason to keep going, you know?”

Wordy smiled internally. When he had first been discussing the case with Sam, he’d turned his mic back on, allowing the rest of the team to hear their conversation. They were silent, which he took as a good sign. After all, Wordy had said from the get-go that Sam had a hell of a lot of potential – the rest of Team One needed to see that as well. “So what do you suggest?”

“You said he has a daughter, right? How old is she?”

“Yeah, she’s 17.”

“Meaning she’ll be a senior in the fall, right?”

Wordy glanced at Sam in confusion, unsure of what that had to do with anything. “Yes…”

“There’s the incentive. Senior year for his only child? That’s college acceptances, graduation, turning eighteen. That’s a huge deal for most parents. He’d want to stay for that, wouldn’t he?”

Wordy grinned, listening to the other members of Team One talk amongst themselves. They all seemed relatively impressed, and he distinctly heard Ed say, “Damn, that’s not bad.”

“Hey Sam,” Wordy said, “do me a favor.”

“Yeah man?”

“Turn your mic back on.”

Sam complied, and as soon as he hit the button, he was hit with a smattering of applause.

“Not your thing, Braddock? Could have fooled me!” Spike’s grin was audible through the headset.

“Hey Sam?”

“Yeah Sarge?”

“I want you to negotiate this one.”

Sam froze. He’d yet to negotiate outside of training exercises, and even those usually ended in disaster. Jules seemed to have the same thought.

“Sarge, you sure?”

Sarge shot her a quelling glare before saying, “If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t have mentioned it. What do you say, Sam? Ready to enter the big leagues?”

Truthfully, Sam wasn’t sure he was ready. After all, he couldn’t even negotiate in practice, and with someone’s life hanging in the balance, the stakes were incredibly high. Also, this had a chance to get personal _fast_ , and Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to bare his soul to a group of people who seemingly hated his guts.

But his father had raised him to be a soldier, first and foremost, and a soldier’s job was to follow orders. So Sam took a deep breath and said, “Yes sir, if that’s what you need me to do.”

“I’ll be in your ear the whole time,” Greg said, and that was that.

As the team finally pulled into the parking lot, Sam felt a chill go down his spine. He had a really bad feeling about this.

He stepped out of the SUV, squared his shoulders, and began unknowingly walking to his death.

When Wordy and Sam reached the rest of Team One, Ed was in the middle of dishing out orders.

“Jules, you’re Sierra One. Spike, you’re down here with the Sarge. Lou and Wordy, you’re with me on tactical entry.”

As the three walked towards the steps of the apartment complex, Jules ran across the street and entered another building a few feet taller than the one their subject lived in. Spike climbed into the van and began typing away, hoping to get visual on Nelson. Greg stood outside the van with Sam and motioned for Sam to turn his headset off as he did the same.

“Listen Sam, don’t freak out. You came up with a respectable connection, a good one. I think you have a real shot at talking this guy down, alright? Just remember your training, and keep in mind that Mr. Nelson’s behavior is going to be unpredictable. Just keep him calm and rational. You’re going to do fine.”

“Thanks, Sarge.”

“Of course. And for what it’s worth?”

“Yes sir?”

Greg smiled at Sam in a fatherly way. “You’re gonna make one hell of a cop someday.”

Sam smiled the first genuine smile he’d smiled in months. He’d been working his ass off, and it seemed like it was finally paying off.

Now he just had to save this man’s life. No pressure.

Sam and Greg turned their mics back on just as Spike stuck his head out of the van.

“Subject is visible, no apparent weapons. I’m calling this threat level green.”

“I second that,” Jules added from her Sierra spot, “subject’s body language is calm.”

Greg looked at Sam and said, “Alright Braddock, let’s do this.”

Sam nodded and began walking towards the apartments.

When Sam reached the roof door, he called his position to the team.

“At the roof door, about to engage.”

“Sounds good Braddock, go ahead.”

Nodding silently at Ed’s conformation, Sam opened the door silently. Taking a couple steps towards the man on the edge of the roof, Sam took a breath and announced himself.

“Larry Nelson?”

The man in question stiffened at the sound of his name, but he didn’t seem particularly surprised. “Who’re you?”

“My name is Sam Braddock. I’m with SRU’s Team One.”

“Well, Constable Braddock,” the man said with a smirk evident in his voice, “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but then I’d be lying.”

“Any chance you want to tell me why you’re up here today, Mr. Nelson?”

“Please, call me Larry.”

Sam made sure to keep his voice level. “Alright Larry. Call me Sam.”

“And to answer your question? I’m up here for obvious reasons, Constable. I want to die.”

“And why is that?”

“Please, like you don’t already know that.”

Greg’s voice came over Sam’s mic. “Don’t lie to him, Sam, but tread lightly.”

Knowing that the Sarge could see him, Sam nodded before speaking to Nelson. “You’re right, Larry. I do know.”

“Well, then why’d you ask? You know about the cancer. You know that there’s no reason for me not to end my life right now.”

“See, that’s where I disagree, Larry.”

Greg hissed quietly, but Sam still heard over the mic. Telling the subject that they’re incorrect? Not a good plan.

Larry spun around, and over the earpiece, Jules said, “In position.”

“You disagree? You _disagree_? Well then, I must be totally incorrect. If the mighty Sam Braddock says that he’s right, he must be right!”

“Shit, he’s all over the place,” Spike said. It was true; Nelson had jumped from friendly to apathetic to enraged in a matter of moments, which did not bode well for Sam.

Greg spoke into the mic. “Stay calm, Sam. Bring him back around to his daughter.”

“I’m sorry, Larry. It wasn’t my intention to insult you. I just think you’re forgetting about something.”

“And what’s that?” Nelson sounded genuinely curious, and his tone was once again congenial.

“Nice save, Sam,” said Wordy.

Ignoring Wordy, Sam met Nelson’s eyes and said, “Lucy’s seventeen.”

The subject’s brows furrowed. “My daughter? What does her age have to do with anything?”

“She’s about to be a senior in high school, right? That’s college acceptances, and graduation, and her eighteenth birthday. For most kids, that’s one of the brightest years of their childhood. It’d be a shame to miss all of that.”

Nelson nodded and began speaking. “Yeah, I would like to see her graduate. And she’s so talented, you know? First in her class, and she runs track too; she’s an exceptional sprinter. She wants to go to America for college; Stanford’s her top pick.”

Sam smiled. “Stanford’s an excellent school from what I’ve heard. I’m sure she’d want her dad to be there when she moves in.”

Just as quickly as it appeared, the wistful, proud smile fell from Nelson’s face as he said, “No, she wouldn’t. We’ve been fighting nonstop since I lost my job. She won’t even look me in the eye anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Larry, but just because she’s angry doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. She wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“And you would know, right? Because you have so much experience with teenage girls.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm, and Spike couldn’t help but wince. This guy was _seriously_ unpredictable.

“Well, I don’t have a daughter, but I do have a little sister; her name’s Natalie, and she’s seven years younger than me. When she was a teenager, she and our dad fought nonstop. She hated everything he stood for, everything he wanted for her. She’d come home every night, drunk or high or both, and he’d confront her, and before you knew it, things were being thrown and they were screaming horrible things at each other. But you know what?”

“What?”

“She moved on. Nat realized that just because she disagreed with our dad didn’t make him the bad guy. And when she graduated, she said in her speech that the thing she was most grateful for was that her father was in the front row, and that his respect meant everything to her.”

“She really said that?”

“Yeah, she did. At the end of the day, your daughter will come along. From what you’ve said, she’s a smart girl, with a good head on her shoulders. And you know what?”

“What?”

“You can make amends with Lucy. Right now. All you have to do is come with me.”

The subject studied Sam for a minute before saying, “You really think she’ll forgive me?”

Sam smiled faintly. “I really do.”

Nelson stepped off the ledge. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll come with you.”

“Thank you, Larry.”

Larry walked over towards Sam. When he’d gotten about a foot away, he stopped and stared at Sam intently.

“What’d you say your name was again?”

“Sam Braddock.”

“Any relation to William Braddock?”

Sam peered at him, puzzled. “Yeah, he’s my father. Why do you ask?”

Nelson stayed where he was, continuing to study Sam.

“Larry? You with me?”

The subject lunged suddenly, and Sam hit the ground.

“Jules, do you have the shot?” Greg’s voice was panicked.

“No, I can’t get a clean visual!”

Sarge swore loudly before saying, “If that changes, take the shot!”

“Want us to go in Sarge?”

“Not yet, Ed, but be ready.”

“Copy that.”

Spike looked at Greg and mouthed, “What the hell happened?”

Greg shrugged before turning his attention to the monitors, watching Sam and the subject fight on the roof. When Sam hit the ground, Larry grabbed his gun and threw it off the roof before cocking his hand back, preparing to punch Sam in the face. Sam quickly caught his fist and used the momentum to switch positions, grabbing Nelson’s wrists and pinning them behind his back.

Nelson jerked upwards, throwing Sam off balance just enough to get free. Sam swung, but Nelson blocked and kicked at Sam’s kneecap. Sam parried and grabbed Nelson’s leg, throwing them man over his shoulder.

“Hey Spike? Next time tell me when the subject’s Special Forces?”

Spike replied, “What are you talking about?”

Before Sam could respond, he found himself in a chokehold. Grabbing the attacker’s arm, Sam stomped on Nelson’s toes, giving him enough leverage to elbow him in the face. Stumbling back, Nelson stumbled before lunging at Sam again.

The pair began stumbling towards the roof edge, both frantically grappling for an advantage, but they were evenly matched.

“Jules?”

“No solution Sarge! I cannot fire without hitting Sam.”

Sarge yelled, “Ed, go!”

The tac team sprinted up the stairs and burst through the doors with a bang. Caught by surprise, Sam turned around, and Nelson used the distraction to grab Sam’s collar and spin around, essentially using him as a human shield.

“Nelson,” Wordy yelled, “drop him now and walk away from the edge!”

Nelson smiled menacingly and said, “Tell the General I send my regards.”

Then, still holding firmly onto Sam, Larry Nelson jumped off the roof.

***

The world reappeared in violent swirls, light and color bending together. Sam moaned, low and hoarse, and tried desperately to move. When his entire body exploded with pain, he stopped, instead trying to figure out what had happened.

Despite the throbbing in his head, Sam did his best to focus, and slowly, the pieces of the puzzle that was his predicament came together. He’d been with his team, he remembered, and he’d been negotiating. As he struggled to recall what had happened next, his hearing suddenly returned, and through his headset he could hear the voices of the team in his ear.

“Everyone quiet down!”

At Wordy’s words, the shouting ceased, as did some of the banging in Sam’s head.

“Hey Sam,” Wordy continued, “you with us?”

Swallowing, Sam took a ragged breath before responding.

“Yeah.”

Wordy exchanged worried glances with Ed and Lou; they were thrilled that Sam was conscious, but he didn’t sound good at all. His words were slurred, and his voice faint.

“Alright Braddock, hang in there, we’ll be right there,” Ed replied.

“Hey Sam?”

Sam coughed raggedly before replying. “Sarge?”

“Is the subject dead?”

Taking a moment to simply recover (talking was getting progressively harder), Sam turned his head slightly to the right, ignoring the rocket of pain that went through his brain when he did so. Larry Nelson lay on the ground, a piece of glass from the ground stuck through his throat.

“Yep.”

“Alright, everyone move in!”

With the exception of Sarge and Spike (who were in the truck), the team went rushing to Sam. When the three members of the tac team arrived, they were met with a gruesome sight. The subject was covered in blood, his eyes staring blankly towards the sky. Sam lay a few feet away, body splayed on the pavement.

“Jesus Christ,” Lou murmured.

There was a rapidly-growing puddle of blood underneath Sam’s head, and he had a bone sticking clean out of his left leg. His breaths were gasping and shallow, the kind of breaths that come with broken ribs.

“EMS is two minutes out!”

Kneeling down, Wordy began speaking to Sam in a low, reassuring tone. “Hey Sam, just relax. Everything’s gonna be just fine, don’t worry.” Distantly, Wordy heard Jules mutter something about his family, so he continued, “Is there anyone you want us to call, Sam?”

Sam, who at this point had seemingly been unconscious, blinked rapidly before locking eyes with Wordy with startling intensity. “Nat… call… Nat…”

“Alright Sam, we’ll give her a call. Just hang in there, okay?”

Just as Wordy finished speaking, Ed and Lou came running over, a pair of paramedics in tow. As the EMTs began to work, Sam reached up and grabbed Wordy’s sleeve before saying, “Don’t… call…”

“Who shouldn’t we call, Sam? Sam, answer me!”

Sam fell silent, his eyes closing.

“Sir,” one of the paramedics said, “we need to move him now.”

Wordy nodded before standing and moving out of the way. Once he’d done so, the EMTs loaded Sam onto a stretcher and ran back towards the ambulance, their hasty movements contrasting with their otherwise calm demeanor. Jules, who had just appeared, stood with Wordy, Ed, and Lou in silence as the ambulance pulled away, sirens blaring.

“Alright team,” Greg spoke up, “I just handed the scene over to Team Three. Let’s load up and head to the hospital.”

After a brief moment, everyone began to move, grabbing their gear and climbing into their SUVs. All three cars pulled away from the crime scene in unison, and as they began the twenty minute drive to the hospital, everything was dead quiet.

Once they reached the ER, the nurse at the front desk took one look at their SRU uniforms and led them to a private waiting room off the side of the main one. Smiling sympathetically, she promised to update them as soon as she got any news. As she walked away, Spike spoke up.

“We need to call his sister.”

“Does the SRU have that number on file?” Lou questioned.

“I’ll check,” Ed replied, pulling out his phone as he spoke.

After a brief moment, the person on the other end of the line picked up, and after a short conversation, Ed slammed the phone down. “I asked Kira for Sam’s emergency contact… there’s nobody listed.”

Without even acknowledging Ed’s words, Jules stood and jogged down the hall towards the desk of the ER. She appeared in the doorway soon afterwards and silently held out a phone to Greg.

“Is this Sam’s phone? How is it not smashed to pieces?”

Jules smiley grimly before replying. “It was in a pocket on the front of his vest. Since he landed on his back, the phone didn’t receive enough of an impact to break. I figured, even if we don’t have Natalie’s number, he probably would.”

Nodding at Jules’s words, Greg flipped the phone open, scrolling through the contacts briefly before clicking on Natalie’s. As he waited for her to pick up, he said, “Good call, Jules.” Then, he stood and exited the waiting room, choosing to stand right outside the door to make the call.

There was a clicking sound, and then a voice floated through the speakers. “Hey Sammy! I thought you were working today!”

Flinching slightly, Greg responded, “Are you Natalie Braddock?”

“Yeah, I am,” the woman replied in a wary tone, “who are you, and why do you have my brother’s phone?”

“Natalie, my name is Sargent Greg Parker, with SRU’s Team One. I’m calling with some bad news about your brother Sam.”

“Wait… you’re Sam’s boss, right? Your name sounds familiar.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You said you had bad news about Sam… is he dead?”

Taken aback by Natalie’s bluntness, Sarge had to take a moment before replying. “No, Natalie, he’s alive. He’s in surgery at Toronto General. He asked us to call you.”

“He’s alive? Oh, thank God. I’m on my way now… I’ll be there in an hour, maybe less.”

“Alright, Natalie, we’ll see you soon.” As Greg went to hang up, he heard Natalie’s questioning tone through the phone.

“Sargent Parker?”

“Yes?”

Greg sensed, rather than heard, the woman sigh. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

With that, she hung up, leaving Greg to stare at the phone blankly for a moment before shaking his head and stepping into the waiting room.

“Well?” Ed inquired.

“She’s on her way,” the Sarge responded. With that, he took a seat and closed his eyes. The room once again lapsed into a tense silence.

All they could do now was wait. 

***

Fifty minutes after the phone call, a girl appeared in the waiting room doorway. When the team failed to notice her arrival, she cleared her throat softly before speaking.

“Sargent Parker?”

At the sound of his name, Greg looked up and nearly choked. This girl looked so similar to Sam it was uncanny. Registering the others’ shocked expressions, Greg stood, walking over to her and offering his hand.

“You must be Natalie.”

Smiling grimly in conformation, Natalie said, “Despite the circumstances, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Sam speaks very highly of you all.”

Greg raised an eyebrow at her statement, but otherwise didn’t react. Internally, however, he was reeling. The team had treated Sam incredibly poorly in the two weeks that he’d been with them – they’d yelled at him for every single rookie mistake but never really bothered to correct them, excluded him from all the out-of-office plans they made, and complained about having him on the team both loudly and often. Yet Sam still apparently sang their praises, even though at this point he probably could have filed a complaint against them. Greg had to admit, this was an interesting development. Recalling Sam’s words earlier that morning, Sarge couldn’t help but think there was more than met the eye when it came to Sam Braddock.

Noticing the less-than-controlled expressions of surprise painted on his team’s faces, Greg turned to Natalie, gesturing towards an empty chair. As she took a seat, she said, “Knowing my brother, he’s never mentioned me, so I’m sure you have lots of questions. Before I answer them, though, can you tell me what happened?”

Despite the fact that she had directed the question towards the Sarge, it was Wordy who responded. “We were responding to a call. A man was standing on the roof of his apartment building, threatening to jump off. On the ride there, Sam came up with a way to talk him down, so Sarge asked him to be lead negotiator.”

Chuckling quietly, Natalie responded, “Never thought I’d see the day where Sam wasn’t working as a sniper.”

Smirking at her tone, Ed continued, “When we got to the scene, Sam started negotiations. He did everything exactly the way he was supposed to. Then, as Sam was leading him off the roof, the subject stopped and asked if Sam’s father was William Braddock. When Sam said yes, the subject attacked him. They struggled for a minute, and then…”

“And then what?” Natalie inquired.

“We came bursting through the roof door,” Lou said, “and I guess it startled Sam, because he turned around when he heard us… the subject grabbed him and yelled something before jumping off the roof and dragging Sam with him.”

Natalie was silent for a moment before she murmured, “Jesus Christ.” She bit her lip, obviously in deep thought, before she looked at Lou and asked him, “What exactly did the man say when he jumped?”

“I don’t remember,” Lou said, “something about a general, maybe?”

Jules spoke up. “He said, ‘Send the General my regards’.”

“Are you positive that’s exactly what he said?”

“Yeah,” Jules responded, furrowing her brow. Natalie sounded downright nervous, and something about the look on her face sent a chill running down Jules’s spine.

Natalie took a deep breath, seemingly lost in thought. After several moments, Spike broke the silence.

“Natalie, what’s going on, and what does a general have to do with anything?”

Natalie shook her head slightly before murmuring, “Unfortunately, the General has everything to do with everything.” Noting Team One’s baffled countenances, she continued, “I need to make a phone call. When I’m done, I’ll answer all your questions.” When the team didn’t reply, she stood, dialing a number as she walked away. As soon as she left the room, Ed turned to Greg.

“What the hell was that?”

Greg merely shrugged. “I have no idea, Eddie,” he said in an exhausted voice, “absolutely none at all.”

Several minutes later, Natalie entered the waiting room once again, sitting in the chair she had previously vacated before saying, “Alright. Fire away.”

“First question,” Ed said, “who is the General, and why does he have anything to do with Sam getting thrown off a roof?”

“The General is General William Braddock, the Commander of the Canadian Joint Task Forces. He also happens to be our father.”

The room was silent.

“As far as why someone tried to murder Sam because he’s our father, I can only guess, but knowing my father, your subject was probably someone that the General screwed over. He has a lot of enemies.”

“Okay, I’m confused as hell,” Spike commented, “what…”

Natalie laughed. “I’m going to guess that Sam has told you absolutely nothing about him, his family or his past.”

Spike nodded in agreement.

“Alright then, I’ll give you all the general overview. The Braddock’s are a very powerful and influential military family that goes back generations. For as long as I can remember, boys born into the family become soldiers, and girls end up becoming army wives in various other wealthy military dynasties. Our parents were no exception. My father joined up on his eighteenth birthday and rose through the ranks rapidly. He did a tour overseas before returning to Canada to work the administrative side of it. He married my mother, a wealthy, beautiful airhead, and was promoted to General two years after returning home. Shortly afterwards, he and my mother had Sam. Three years after that, they had my sister Elizabeth, and four years later, they had me.”

At this point, Natalie paused, both to catch her breath and to allow the team to ask questions if they had any. When they remained silent, she continued with her story.

“My parents never really wanted children at all; they definitely aren’t parent material. But it was expected of them, and it provided them with lots of political capital, so they decided that they would raise us as strictly as possible to prepare us for what they had already decided our futures would be. Sam got his first rifle at five years old, and after kindergarten, our father pulled him out of regular school and hired a private tutor. Instead of studying regular stuff, Sam studied lots of military strategy and history, with a good bit of higher level math thrown in. In the afternoons and on the weekends, when other kids were playing sports or having fun, Sam was at the shooting range.”

“That doesn’t seem like a very happy childhood,” Jules remarked.

“It wasn’t,” Natalie responded, “but my parents had made up their mind. If they had to raise kids, they were going to raise them to be as good at their respective societal roles as possible, which meant we never would have had a normal childhood anyway. But I digress… anyway, while Sam was doing this, Elizabeth was being raised to basically be a glorified trophy wife. She learned to cook and clean and took etiquette lessons; she wasn’t allowed to play sports at all. Instead, she helped my mother at social functions and took piano lessons. She was absolutely miserable, but so was Sam, and misery loves company, so soon enough, the two of them were incredibly close. They were each other’s best and only friends.”

“Then what happened?”

“When Elizabeth was six, she was walking around town with Sam. It was Christmas Eve Day, so my parents decided to let them go to the park for a few hours. While they were on the way, this drunk driver came out of nowhere. He ran a red light, and when he swerved to avoid incoming traffic, he jumped the curb and hit Beth. She died on scene.”

“Jesus,” Wordy said. He had been internally fuming when Natalie had described Sam’s miserable childhood, but now he was just sad. If someone had told him two weeks previously that he’d feel this badly for the cocky new member of Team One, he wouldn’t have believed them in the slightest. Now, though, he couldn’t help but feel horrible for judging Sam, and looking around at the rest of the team, Wordy could tell that they felt similarly.

“After that, nobody in my family was ever really the same. My father blamed Sam… he said that Sam should have heard the car coming, or at least seen it before it hit Beth. That’s crap, obviously. I mean, he was nine years old, but my father blamed him, and I think that Sam blamed himself too. And my mother… well, I was a baby at the time, so I don’t really remember what she was like before the accident. But after? She was a wreck. I don’t think she ever really loved Beth the way she was supposed to, but she was still her daughter, you know? So she turned to the bottle, and now she can’t put it down.”

Greg shook his head, his own battle with alcohol coming to mind for obvious reasons. He thought about Dean, and how much it had hurt having him taken away. But to lose his child permanently? He couldn’t even fathom that kind of pain.

Ed was having similar thoughts. He wasn’t around very often, considering his job, and Clarke had basically grown up only seeing him on the weekends. It was one of Ed’s greatest regrets, and all he could imagine now was losing Clarke, and how much it would hurt to know he didn’t spend more time with his only son.

Taking notice of the Team’s dumbfounded looks, Natalie said, “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

“I just… can’t imagine.”

Natalie gave Jules a wry smile. “Sam kind of makes a bit more sense now, right?”

Jules could only nod. She remembered how harshly she’d judged Sam when he first arrived on the team. But now, knowing at least part of the story, she realized that his cold exterior was almost definitely a mask, one he’d adopted as a result of both his lonely childhood and his time in Special Forces.

Spike seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Jules, because he asked, “So once Sam grew up, he joined the Army, right?”

“I mean, he spent a little bit of time in the 51st Division, but eventually, the General wore him down, so he enlisted. Ended up being the youngest person to ever get into Special Forces, and a lot of people resented him for that, especially since our father is in charge of the Joint Task Forces. But Sam genuinely made it in on his own merit; he was just that good. He did two tours, and most of it is classified, but the bits I do know about… well, let’s just say that the things he’s seen… the things he’s done… they’re nothing short of horrifying.”

“I’ve heard stories,” Wordy added, “from a couple of buddies, and man, the tales they tell.”

“But anyway, after an… incident, in Kandahar, Sam left. He said that he was tired of being a point and shoot guy, that he wanted to go back to what he’d done at the 51st – saving lives. Protecting people that were helpless and needed protecting.”

Lou said, “So he left Afghanistan, and he came here.”

“Exactly.”

“But how did he manage to bypass the SRU selection process? I mean, we normally get to pick our new teammates, but Sam was kind of… dropped in our laps, so to speak.”

“Well, it’s actually quite a complicated story, but the simplified version is that Norm, Commander Holleran to you, has known the Braddock family for a very long time, and he… owed Sam a favor, so to speak. And so when Sam came home, he asked to be placed on a SRU team. And Team One just happened to have an open spot.”

“And now we’re here,” Greg said.

“And now we’re here,” Natalie reiterated.

There was a brief pause, during which the room took a moment to absorb the story they’d just been told. Then, Spike asked, “Wait… you said Sam left after ‘an incident’ in Kandahar. What happened?”

Natalie sighed and looked down at the floor, her shoulders slumping. In a quiet voice, she responded, “That’s not my story to tell.”

“But it was bad?”

“Yeah,” Natalie confirmed, “it was bad.” She fell silent, thinking back to the first few weeks after Sam had come home, how heartbroken he’d been.

How close they’d come to losing him for good.

Shaking those thoughts off, Natalie said, “When Sam got home, he and the General got into a huge fight. They’ve never gotten along at all, but this was… honestly, it was one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever seen. The General was furious that Sam had left. He ordered Sam to rejoin Special Forces immediately, but Sam refused. It was the first time, at least in my memory, that Sam ever said anything other than ‘yes sir’ to my father. When Sam refused, our father absolutely lost it. He told Sam that he was a disappointment and a disgrace, a weak, worthless coward who deserved to burn in hell for his disobedience. Sam got in his face; he said that he’d done exactly what the General had asked of him for his entire life, yet he’d ended up exactly where he’d never wanted to be. Then he said that he was done taking our father’s word as law, and that from now on, he was making his own choices. The General didn’t appreciate that at all. Basically, he disowned Sam in everything but name. I’m not even supposed to be in contact with Sam.”

“But he’s your brother,” Greg said understandingly, “so you are anyway.”

“Yeah, and it’s going to get me in a whole world of trouble in just a little while, but that’s okay. Sam cares about me more than the entire rest of my family put together; I don’t need them to be happy.”

Lou looked confused. “What do you mean when you say you’re going to get in trouble? How is your father going to find out you were here if you don’t tell anyone?”

Natalie opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, a pair of soldiers appeared, followed by two more. They dispersed towards the group gathered in the back of the room. There was silence for a brief, tense moment.

Then, they heard footsteps echoing through the hospital hallway.

The General had arrived.

At the sound of the footsteps, Natalie paled slightly, her shoulders sagging almost imperceptibly before she took a deep breath and straightened her back. Team One watched, all of them completely dumbfounded. In the blink of an eye, she had gone from easygoing and gentle to rigid and blank-faced.

Two more soldiers marched into the waiting room, and then the General appeared in the doorway. Jules could barely hold back a gasp of surprise. If Natalie looked like Sam, then the General was his doppelganger, except for the fact that his hair and eyes were grey. There was something different about this man though. As closed off as Sam was, he had nothing on this man, who looked as if he’d been carved from a block of ice. He was incredibly tall and powerfully built, and his face was cold and stony. He practically radiated disdain and disinterest, and now more than ever, Jules understood how Sam had ended up the way he did.

“Constables,” the General said, his tone dripping with condescension, “may I have a word with you?”

“Of course, General Braddock,” said Greg, “what can we help you with?”

“When I spoke to Natalie, she informed me that your target mentioned me before throwing Constable Braddock off the roof. What was this man’s name?”

Ed frowned. Natalie had said that Sam and his father rarely got along, but the fact that the General didn’t even call his son by his given name made Ed think there was much more to the story than Natalie had let on. Regardless, he replied, “Larry Nelson. He was a bartender, but when he and Sam were struggling, Sam mentioned something about the man being Special Forces.”

“May I see a picture?”

Though Spike was extremely confused, he pulled out his phone and showed General Braddock the image of their subject. When the man nodded, Spike withdrew the phone, placing it back in his pocket.

“Constables, what I am about to tell you to do is not up for debate. This is a matter of national security, and if you don’t like it, I don’t care. Larry Nelson does not exist. This case? It did not exist. Constable Braddock was injured during a training exercise due to his own incompetence. If you tell any other story than this one, you will find yourself in prison, come hell or high water.”

Something changed in the General’s eyes, and though he had been terrifying before, he was now positively evil looking. “And just to be clear, I am both the hell and the high water.”

With that, the man turned to his daughter, who met his gaze stonily. “I can see, Natalie, that you have chosen your side.”

“I have.” Her tone brooked no disagreement.

“Well, if that’s how you want to play this. Enjoy your life of misfortune and misery, Ms. Braddock.”

“That sounded like a threat, General. You really want to go there with me?”

General Braddock leveled his daughter with a gaze so icy that the room’s temperature seemed to drop. “No, I have no desire to threaten you. But you disobeyed my orders, and I therefore have no choice. I am going to destroy you and your brother both, so brace yourself.”

Natalie grinned in a way that could only be described as feral. “There’s one thing you’re forgetting, father.”

“And what’s that?”

“Sam and I? We learned from the best. You think you can take us? Give it a try and see what happens, old man.”

The General stood still for a moment, his face still entirely blank. Then, without uttering a word, he spun on his heel and exited the room, his protective detail following behind him. For a moment, the room was silent. Then Lou broke it.

“What the hell was that?”

“That,” Natalie replied with a grim smile, “was the General.”

“Is he always like that?” Greg asked with a frown.

Natalie shook her head. “He must have been in a good mood… that was actually pretty tame for him. Normally he would have probably thrown something.”

“Damn,” Wordy said, “suddenly the story Sam told our subject makes a lot more sense now.”

“What story?” Natalie asked in a curious tone.

“When Sam was negotiating with the subject, he told him about how you and your dad used to fight a lot when you were in high school, but how eventually you realized that you didn’t have to agree with him to love him.”

Natalie snorted. “Well, that’s kind of true. I did stop fighting with him for a while, and then at graduation, I gave a sappy speech about how much his love and respect meant to me. But I certainly didn’t mean any of it. I just wanted my share of the family trust; its release was contingent on my relationship with the General at graduation.”

“Damn, that’s cold,” Jules said, “faking him out like that.”

“But do you blame me?”

Jules chuckled. “Not really, no.”

Natalie grinned, and then continued, “As soon as I got access to the account, I drained it all dry and moved to New York. Spent a couple years as a waitress, auditioned for Broadway productions in my spare time. I partied a lot, too. And then eventually, I got pretty bored with the whole scene. So I moved back here and started working as a secretary at some fancy corporate law firm. I take night classes at the community college near my apartment too; I’m studying business in the hopes I can start teaching vocal lessons, maybe make a real career out of it.”

“That sounds pretty cool,” Spike said, “how’d you come up with that idea?”

“Sam, actually. Right before he came home, I mentioned to him that I wanted to start a business, but I didn’t know what I wanted the business to be. And he thought for a second, and then he said ‘Well, you’re a really good singer… maybe you could do something with that?’ And that’s how it all started.”

Ed nodded along with Natalie’s story. He’d known a kid in high school who’d been heir to a huge trust; as soon as he got the money, he ran off. Last he’d heard, he was living in a mansion in Ontario, throwing wild parties and not working. It said quite a bit about Sam and Natalie that they’d chosen their own paths instead of using their ancestors’ money to fall back on, even if it’d seemingly taken Natalie a while.

A silence fell on the room and lasted for several minutes before Wordy spoke up, a look of contemplation on his face. “When the General was here, he told you that he was going to destroy you and Sam. What did he mean by that?”

Natalie shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea… but one thing I do know for sure? The General doesn’t do empty threats. So my guess is, whatever he’s going to do, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Wordy nodded, accepting the answer. As Greg opened his mouth (presumably to ask Natalie another question about her and Sam’s father), a surgeon entered the waiting room doorway.

“Family of Sam Braddock?”

As one, the team and Natalie rose. Though Jules was sure they were an interesting sight (all but one of them in full SRU tactical gear, several of them covered in blood), the surgeon didn’t seem at all phased. Instead, she merely raised one eyebrow before specifying, “Immediate family of Sam Braddock?”

Team One sat back down, leaving Natalie standing alone. She followed the surgeon out of the room, her face pale and blank, leaving the team behind.

For the second time that day, all they could do was wait.

***

On the day of Sam’s funeral, it rained.

Despite the rumbling of thunder and sporadic flashes of lightning, the graveyard was packed. Natalie sat with her parents in the front row, all three of them expressionless; Team One sat several rows behind the Braddock family, their emotions ranging from stoic (Ed) to desolate (Spike). It was obvious to any careful observer, though, that all the SRU members there were grieving. Team Two and Five had also made appearances, though they sat further back, and Commander Holleran sat just behind the General.

The service was full of ceremony, of decorated officers rattling off Sam’s achievements and accolades, the medals he’d earned and the strength of character he’d possessed. It reminded Greg of the Sam they’d known; closed off, impersonal, and cold. He knew Sam would have hated it.

Then Natalie got up to speak.

“Most of you,” she began, “knew my brother as Master Corporal Braddock, or as Constable Braddock. But I knew him as Sam. The person who taught me to drive when he was on leave during his first tour. The person who took me to every community theater audition when I was a kid, and the person who came to every single one of my shows, even when I was just an extra. Sam was that kind of person… the kind of person who was more than willing to give up everything to help the people he cared about. You’ve heard a lot today about his integrity, his bravery, his sacrifice. And those are things that should be celebrated. But I also wanted all of you to be aware of his compassion, and most of all, his quiet determination to make the world a better place before he left it. When he first left Special Forces for the SRU, I asked him if he would miss the top-secret missions, the knowledge that every time he left base, he was doing something that could maybe save the world. He was quiet for a moment, and then he said something I’ll never forget. He said, ‘Natalie, I think if there’s one thing that I’ve learned in life so far, it’s that you don’t always have to be the hero. You just have to go where you’re needed.’”

Here, she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“Sam might not be alive anymore, but he’s still with us. He’s our perseverance, our inner strength, and the quiet, steady voice in our heads and hearts that reminds us to be true to ourselves. As cliché as it sounds, I know Sam wouldn’t want us to be sad on his behalf. He’d want us to look at his death, his sacrifice, as something positive. He always said that if he could choose how his life would end, he would want to die doing something greater than him, something… more. And that’s exactly what happened.”

“He was my big brother, my confidant, and above all, my best friend. I will love him and miss him for the rest of my life, but I won’t let myself grieve forever. I have to move on eventually. And I think… I think that’s the way he would have wanted it.”

Natalie stepped down from the podium and off the stage, taking her seat by her mother. Sam’s coffin was slowly lowered into the ground, and once it hit the dirt, people began standing up and leaving, many heading to the Braddocks to offer their condolences, other wandering off in groups of two and three.

Thunder crashed nearby, and the rain came pouring down in sheets. People scattered until Team One and Natalie were the only people left in the graveyard. Natalie didn’t seem to notice that they were there. Sinking onto the ground, she took a deep breath and began to sing quietly, her voice echoing through the graveyard despite the storm.

Team One walked away.

***

Five years later, Natalie got married in the same church she and her siblings had been baptized in. At her request, Team One attended, along with Commander Holleran. They sat three rows back on the bride’s side.

Natalie’s parents were not in attendance.

Ten months later, Natalie gave birth to a baby boy.

She named him Sam.


End file.
